


you left me, i left you

by potato_post_community



Series: i don't think you'll need me [2]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: A real adult, Fights, Gen, He works so much, Parent Donald Duck, That Donald Duck, Yeah they fight over who's the superior parent kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 00:02:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20647889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potato_post_community/pseuds/potato_post_community
Summary: Della gets upset, she's not really sure why. This causes her to argue with Donald.





	1. fight

**Author's Note:**

> this chapter? they argue.

Donald comes back to his senses by day two of his return, and Della is _ pissed. _ He ends up limping around the mansion on crutches, holed up on the couch a good half of the day. He’s never found without a pile of papers beside him, without a computer in his lap, a coffee mug in his hand. 

He’s been working ever since he stopped sleeping, which is pointless. They’re living under Uncle Scrooge’s- _ the richest duck’s- _ roof. What could Donald possibly need to _ work _ for? Besides, has he ever heard of a break? 

She ends up peaking over at his laptop in the rare moments that he leaves it alone, only to see him filling out a form for a job interview at some restaurant. Any job they’ll offer him, he writes, he’s efficient at almost every job out there. Another tab is a job interview for something out on the docks. There’s a third one that catches her eye, buried beneath a load of other tabs. 

It’s for the Navy. 

Her heart drops. 

(A fourth is a list of how much he owes his anger management therapist. Della has a feeling that the jobs might be to pay for that, but also for something else.) 

“Take a break,” she says on day four. Her brother’s coddled up in a blanket pile, scowling at his resume. “You just got back on your feet. And you’re still using _ crutches. _” 

He doesn’t bother looking up at her as he furiously stabs at his backspace button. His coffee cup wobbles and topples down onto his computer. Della steps in and yanks the computer up before the cup can hit, or spill anything. Donald isn’t all that lucky, though, and sure enough, the coffee is still scalding hot. He jumps nearly four feet up with a howl, rolling off to the other side of the couch with a wail. 

“Just give me my computer, Dumbella,” he mutters after regaining his composure. “No one’s _ hiring me yet, _ and I need to figure out why! It’s not like Duckburg has a shortage of jobs!” 

“We’re living with Scrooge! You don’t need a job, Donald.” 

He just rolls his eyes. “I need money and he won’t give it to me. Besides, I’m over _ thirty, _ I shouldn’t need to rely on Scrooge to pay my bills.” 

“What bills do you even _ have?_” Della asks. She grabs the blankets and sets them behind the couch so she can sit beside her brother, throwing her feet up on the table before her. “I don’t pay anything.” 

“Half of the water bill, Mrs. Beakley asks me to do that. Old bills from Jones, if I don’t pay those soon he’ll have my head. Money for school, the boys still need supplies for the upcoming school year, and I really should see about new backpacks this year! Food money, obviously, and I pay a sliver of the electricity bill ever since I’ve been using my computer more.” 

He goes on to list a handful more, but Della’s already about to burst. She plops his computer into his lap, and he opens it without another thought. “Just. Ask Scrooge? You live here too, and _ I’m _back? So I can buy the boys stuff. They aren’t you responsibility anymore, bro.” 

She doesn’t expect Donald to actually _ freeze _at that. He pointedly stares at his computer screen, deleting something else after a beat. “Of course they’re still my responsibility,” he says, as if confused. “For as long as I live, those boys are my responsibility.” 

“But _ I’m _back?” Della repeats. “I’m home. I’m their mother, so I’ll take are of them.” 

“They’re-” Donald trails off with a heavy blink. “They’re _ my _ boys,” he says, like they’ve never been anything but. 

“They’re _ mine. _ I’m the _ mother. _ You’re the uncle, Donald!” 

“I _ raised _ them. I can’t just wave them off and toss all responsibility to _ you._” 

Della’s sure that Donald doesn’t mean for it to hurt as much as it does. “I’ve been doing just fine these past months while you were off on the goddamn moon,” she snarls, her anger taking the best of her. “They’re my kids, they’re not your responsibility, Donald! They’re _ mine. _ My boys, my kids, _ my sons._” 

He looks up at her, lost. Oh so softly, he mutters, “And you left them.” 

“_And so did you!_” 

Donald twists in his seat, snapping his computer shut. “_Excuse me?_” he hisses. 

She stands, poking a finger into his chest. “You left them too, and ended up right where I was. On the _ fucking _ moon. And then Lunaris attacked us and they could’ve died, but you were to busy being on the moon and pretending to be _ dead _ to do _ shit _ about it!” Someone enters the room right after that, though she’s not sure who. Her brother’s eyes widen, she’s not sure why. “You left us, Donald! You _ left!_” 

He stands too, on unstable legs. Donald doesn’t grab his crutches and somehow stands tall. “Listen to what you’re saying, Della.” 

“And you left because you wanted to go on a fucking _ cruise?! _ You say they’re your responsibility, but you leave so you can pamper yourself like all of those _ fancy _ ladies for a month because you’re a selfish _ bastard! _ Please, listen to _ yourself, _ dammit!” 

His fists clench, and Della doesn’t have the time to think that she might’ve gone too far. “I went on the cruise because I was molting out of _ stress. _ You might have had it hard, Della, but it’s not like everyone else has it super easy. The family told me to go on the cruise! They insisted that I leave them, and had _ you _ not _ left your three kids, _ you’d know that I wouldn’t have left if I didn’t think I had too! 

“In _ fact?! _ ” He moves forward, moving into her personal space with a snarl. “_You’re _ the only selfish one here, Della. I _ told you not to go! _ I told you to wait until the boys hatched, I _ told you _ so many _ times. _ And then you went ahead, stole the ship behind _ both _ mine and Scrooge’s backs, and _ left your children behind. _ Had I- or hell, Scrooge- not have intervened, your children would be god knows where! I doubt Gladstone would’ve stepped in to watch them!

“Get out of your own _ head _ for once, Della, and I suggest you take some time to think about what you’ve done, rather than just yelling at me. As far as I’m concerned, those boys are still partially mine, and I can’t sleep easy knowing I haven’t done everything in my power to ensure that I’m doing everything in my power to make sure they’re loved. 

“Understood?” 

Della can only stare, unable to nod or choke out an answer. Donald takes her silence as a negative and grabs at his computer. “I’ll be in the house boat if you need me,” he says with a scoff. “Don’t need me.” 

He leaves without his crutches and Della doesn’t tell him to take them. She doesn’t see him for the rest of the week.


	2. we don't quite make up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donald ponders, Louie talks, Scrooge worries, Della tries.

Donald can’t help the sinking feeling in his chest that his family doesn’t really need him. It’s always been there, coasting by undetected. When they brought up the cruise, it was strong. When they say they’re going off on an adventure that Donald can’t quite make, it’s strong. 

Della’s words in his head make it strong. 

She’s right. The boys have always been hers. He’s not _ needed. _ That thought itself is blasphemous. 

Donald been there for every little thing, to support his boys even when they curse him out. Sure, he’s been distancing himself this past year. They have Scrooge here for them, Donald has more time to work and pull together a valid salary. He had still _ been _ there, though. He took days off of work for anything the boys had going on, made sure to have his shifts allow him to be home, either in the morning for breakfast or at night so he could tuck them in. 

It’s been the four of them for the longest time, and allowing Scrooge to help was hard enough. (Donald had still pretty much been in charge of the boys, paying for their stuff and the like. At least Scrooge wasn’t actively trying to take away his kids.) 

He supposes that Della tucks them in now, doesn’t she? 

Does she make sure to stay up a dash later so she can check up on them, just in case the boys can’t quite sleep? Does she make their favorite meals when Mrs. Beakley doesn’t cook, in the oddly specific way they like it? Does Della even know how to deal with the boys when they’re less than good, when she’s absolutely mad at them? What about for the bad days? Can she deal with them when they’re down? 

He prays that she does, and isolates himself to the houseboat for a week. 

It’s on the first day of his isolation that Louie drops by, towards the end of the night. Donald isn’t asleep yet, he’s stationed in the table, scrolling through something. He keeps entertaining the idea of the Navy again, going back and feeling that rush in his veins. He’s not too old, he’s still quick and strong. 

When the door opens and Louie steps inside, Donald clicks to a different tab. Louie doesn’t need to know that he’s planning on that. 

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” Donald asks. He doesn’t try to stand and move over to Louie as much as he wants too, his leg’s still shot and he doesn’t have any crutches. He left those will Della, and never asked anyone to grab them for him. 

“I can’t sleep,” Louie shrugs. “I kept thinking you were going to peek through the door like you always do, and when you didn’t-” He freezes, almost choking on his words. “They said you were dead, and then you weren’t, but you didn’t come and I thought that maybe you really were, because we all saw that video and you fighting and-” 

Donald scoots to the outer seat, motioning for Louie to join him. “Louie, you know I’d never leave.” 

He wants to ask why he didn’t go to Della, why Della didn’t poke in and talk to Louie herself. At the same time, he berates himself for not checking on them anyway. 

“You left for the cruise,” Louie mumbles, and Donald’s sure he doesn’t mean for it to sound so much like Della did. “It felt so weird without you here. You always check on us and now that I know you’re back, it’s _ scary._” 

“I’m sorry,” Donald replies. He knows he shouldn’t have left. He’d only really left because everyone kept telling him he should. Being away from the boys is so _ hard. _ “I wouldn’t have left if I didn’t think I could’ve stayed and still looked after you perfectly. You boys deserve a good parent.” 

(Donald isn't enough on his own, is he?)

Louie shrugs and takes a seat beside Donald. Donald gets back to work, unsure of whether or not Louie’s content enough to sit in silence. A lot of the time he is, Huey and Dewey like to talk.

It’s when Donald submits another online form and switches over to the bills, that Louie speaks up again. 

“I heard you and mom,” he says. “Don’t leave us, Uncle Donald.” 

Donald looks down, half fond and teasing, half worried and guilty. “I’m not sure if you’re saying that just because I don’t ground you all that often like she did,” he starts with a smile. “But, you know I’d never leave. I love you and your brothers so, so much. And if you were listening, you’d know I said the same thing.” 

“Can’t you and mom just go make up?” Louie asks next. 

“I think,” Donald says and he pauses. “I think she needs to apologize before I can let myself-” He pauses again. He should be saying something else, or at least word it differently. “She needs to know that I can’t just back away and leave this parenting thing to her. You’re my boys just as much as you’re hers.” 

They sit in silence for the rest of the night, and then a good chunk of the week passes by. Donald makes sure to stop in the mansion to tuck in the boys, to check up on them after an hour. He doesn’t see Della, and that’s more than enough right now. 

On day five, he figures that he should stop and talk to Scrooge about his idea for re-joining the Navy before acting upon it. 

His uncle is up in his study, staring at some treasure map blankly. He looks up when Donald comes in, face softening. “Take a seat, lad. What do you need?”

“I want to talk about my future,” Donald says, as if this is a meeting and he’s asking for some kind of promotion. “I have bills to pay and zero money. No one will hire me. They either see that I’m your nephew and think I don’t actually need a job, or they’ve heard of my bad luck and think it won’t be good for their company.” 

“You need a job with me, then?” Scrooge asks. “I have positions available, with relatively well pay.” 

Maybe. A second resort, possibly. “I’m thinking of re-joining the Navy. It’s good pay, I’ll be away and won’t have too many bills if I’m not living back at home.” 

“You-” Scrooge looks lost. “You’ll be leaving the boys behind, lad.” 

“Della’s back.” 

“I don’t think that the Navy is the best course of action. I have jobs available-” 

“Della says that I don’t need to worry about the boys anymore. I was good when I was in the Navy. I did stuff right. And…” It hurts to admit it out loud. “I’m not needed here, Uncle Scrooge. My job was to get paid and watch the boys.” 

“I’m sure Della didn’t-” 

“They’ve always been her boys. I’m not… I’m not Della.” 

“That’s the _ stupidest _ thing I’ve ever heard!” Scrooge bursts out. “The _ both _ of you have to be there for the boys, lad! You’ve given your damn _ all _ for them. The hell do you _ mean _ that they aren’t your boys?! They’re every bit of yours as they are hers.

“I think it’s high time you stop letting yourself down, and you start realizing just how much this blasted family loves you, Donald.” 

“Della _ said-_” 

“Who _ cares _ what Della said?! You’ve never listened to her before, and she’s never listened to _ you!_” 

Donald looks down, and he clears his throat. “We’re getting off topi-” 

The door flies open to reveal Della, heaving and hair a mess. The boys flank her, Dewey and Webby grinning and Huey and Louie looking worried. “UNCLE SCROOGE, I FUCKED UP!” she cries out, and almost immediately Donald barks out a _ language. _

“Are you kids okay?” he asks, right after. “What’d you do?” 

“Talked to mom,” Dewey grins, rolling on his heels. 

“Listen, bro, I’m really sorry about what I said last week, okay?” Della says. It feels fake to Donald. He almost flat out ignores her, only granting her a terse nod. 

“I guess we’ll have to talk about this later, Uncle Scrooge. It’s… It’s not up to you, I just.” 

“Needed a second opinion,” Scrooge replies. “Think about it. Don’t go through with it if you don’t have to.” Then his uncle leans in and says in a low mutter, “Talk to the kids about it, if you’re going to. They need to know.” 

“Maybe,” Donald says and that is that. To Della he says, “I’ll be out of your hair soon.” 

(That night he dons the mask, and thinks about the Navy and about riding the sea. Maybe he can just ignore all of his responsibilities and let Donald Duck die for real.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha lol tf am i doing 
> 
> thanks for the comments all of you individually made my day. 
> 
> there's going to be a ton more one-shots for this series, not sure when i'll get them out though.


End file.
